One Giant Leap
by Lesa L
Summary: Follows the events of "One Small Step." An angry Harry Kim retreats to a special place on Voyager to think about his day. K/7, K/OC, K & 7, P/T, some D/7 and J/C


K/7, P/T, K/OC, some D/7 and J/C

Timeline: Follows "One Small Step"

Paramount owns them. I'm just playing with them.

Contains spoilers for One Small Step, Scorpion, Revulsion, Disease, Someone to

Watch Over me, Tinker Tenor Doctor Spy and probably others I can't recall.

This was written during Voyager's original run. Long before we heard of the cortical inhibitor.

 **One Giant Leap**

By Lesa L.

'Let it go,' Harry warned himself as he walked through the corridors of Voyager toward the turbolift. He focused his self-control on forward motion. 'Keep moving,' he thought, forcing down the heated ball of anger that threatened his composure. 'Damn them! Damn her!' raged through his mind before he could effectively squelch it.

He managed to nod pleasantly at Henley and Ayala as they exited the turbolift. He turned to face forward as the doors slid shut. 'Almost there,' he thought. The doors opened and he walked a few steps to his goal, Astrometrics. The room was dark, lit only by the buttons glowing on the various consoles. That was fine, he didn't need light, didn't want it to be truthful. He reached for the console noting the coldness and trembling of his hands. Slowly he opened and closed his fingers, stretching them as he had done countless times to prepare himself to play his clarinet.

The familiar action calmed him. Reaching out he began a series of commands, his sensitive fingers danced over the console like a pianist playing a concerto. Astrometrics might have been Seven's domain, but he had helped design every console and database, he could program the necessary commands with his eyes closed if he'd needed to.

The main viewer lit up to show a planet rotating slowly. A planet some 30,000 light years away, Earth. He looked up at the orb circling slowly, studying it. His expression didn't change; the tension in his face eased slightly, that was all.

'What a day,' he thought unoriginally to himself. While still recovering from the aftermath of their encounter with the graviton ellipse, and the subsequent repairs to the ship and the Delta Flyer, Voyager had been buffeted by a spatial storm that had sent the crew scurrying to red alert. For four hours the bridge crew had worked tensely, and all Tom's celebrated piloting skills had been needed to keep their ship out of harm's way. Voyager had not escaped without damage; internal systems had taken a beating. Engineering was in chaos. The Captain had dispatched him to assist B'Elanna with the repair work.

On his way to Engineering the doors opened to allow Marla Gilmore to enter. Technically she was gamma shift, but as many hands as possible were needed. She had smiled slightly, her posture tense and wary. Three months on Voyager, and she still seemed uncomfortable with turbolifts. He watched her eyes flicker over the walls, her arms crossed over her chest nervously. He asked about her previous day of work to take her mind off of her obvious fears.

Suddenly the turbolift lurched and then stopped. Her fear was palpable now, her eyes wide with distress. Calmly he told her that everything was going to be all right. Just a glitch, that's all. He'd then tapped his combadge to no effect, voice activated systems also appeared to be down.

He had turned to access the emergency console when the turbolift had plunged suddenly to the side. His grip on the console door kept him upright but he'd heard the sharp crack of Marla's head hitting the wall. The force of the impact resonated in the small space. He caught her before she could fall and carefully eased them down to the floor, which at the moment was the wall. The lights flickered to half illumination. As carefully as possible, he'd moved his body into a seated position trying not to jostle the young woman. He knew of the danger involved in moving accident victims but he also knew that Tom would right Voyager as soon as possible and didn't want to risk her falling again when the ship resumed position. It was awkward since his back was on the ground and his legs were against the wall. His intuition proved correct as he felt the sudden movement of the ship correcting position.

The movement roused her, and her eyes flickered open, "Ensign Kim?"

"Harry," he said. "How do you feel?"

She ignored his question, "What's happening?" She tried to rise, then grimaced and fell back. Bringing her hands to her forehead she whispered, "I feel dizzy."

"It's okay," he soothed her. "Try not to move. You took a pretty good whack to the head." He shifted her position slightly. The last girl who'd sat on his lap was Naomi Wildman, she was a lot smaller, lighter and didn't have curves. "Looks like turbolifts and communications are down for a while."

Her breathing quickened, "Do they know we're here?" she questioned him anxiously.

"I'm sure they'll figure it out," he said confidently. "B'Elanna demanded that I get my sorry self down to Engineering ASAP. She's probably already contacted the bridge wanting to know what's keeping me." He grinned, "I hope they can send a message through the computers. I'd hate to be the one B'Elanna picks to run the message through the Jeffries tubes to the bridge."

Marla smiled slightly, "I'm on my way there too. But I don't think anyone will notice if I don't show up." Her eyes closed, "I hate this."

"Well, thank you so much," he stated with mock severity.

A half smile crooked her lips, "I mean, I'm just not..."

"Its okay," he assured her. Trying to keep the mood light he teased, "I'm sure it's the surroundings, not the company you don't like."

She tried valiantly to smile, "That's right." The effort was too much, she closed her eyes and murmured, "I feel so tired."

He was concerned, not comfortable with the idea of her sleeping without knowing the extent of her head injury. Common sense told him it didn't matter, but he decided to err on the side of caution. He joked with her, telling her she needed to stay awake to keep him company. She assured him she would stay awake. Something in her manner struck him, after gentle prodding she admitted to having nightmares about the aliens from the Equinox, they still came almost every night, tormenting her. She slept very little, preferring instead to take on additional shifts to earn extra replicator credits. The Equinox survivors had come aboard Voyager with nothing but the uniforms on their backs. The credits accrued to a crewman didn't go far in providing much beyond the basic necessities.

He urged her to talk about some of the things she was saving for. She mused about shampoo and body lotion, not the unscented generic kind that was routinely dispensed in the bathrooms, flannel pajamas, holodeck time. Slowly, her eyes closed as she drifted to sleep, her last words barely a whisper, "Chocolate brownies with walnuts."

Understanding that her tiredness was probably not the result of the blow to the head, but because of the horrors she'd been enduring nightly he rested her head on his shoulder and let her sleep. He felt like he was putting Naomi to bed and mentally promised not to let any monsters come for her in her sleep.

He gently stroked her hair, hoping that his presence alone was enough to keep them away. She needed a counselor; Chakotay was the closest thing Voyager had to one and he would be out of his league dealing with the demons Marla was facing. He thought about the Cardassian doctor's hologram he and the EMH had programmed when B'Elanna was suffering. He wondered if a holographic counselor was a possibility. Someone sympathetic to talk to that 'wasn't' a commanding officer, he thought wryly.

The Doctor of course would be upset, would demand to know why his vast stores of knowledge weren't being used. He'd need strokes from the Captain; maybe assurances that they didn't want to overburden his already tight schedule.

The fact was that the Doctor's psychological subroutines were sadly inefficient, he smiled at himself for using one of Seven's favorite words. But it was true, and frankly now that the senior staff knew what was going on in that computer-programmed mind of his, he knew that none of them would take him seriously as a counselor. He smiled thinking of the look of mixed horror and disbelief in Tom's eyes, when he had Seven repeat verbatim the Doctor's 'breakup' with B'Elanna, when the volatile half-Klingon was away of course. Sometimes that eidetic memory of Seven's came in very handy.

Not that he begrudged the Doctor his fantasies, everyone had them, but it was kind of like knowing that your parents had sex. You know they do, you just don't want them displayed in full color. 'Full color,' he mused, thinking of the 'Artist' scenario he and Seven had found. They'd gone through countless daydreams before they'd come upon that one. He and Seven had stood shoulder-to-shoulder, frequently exchanging amused glances, as they watched the EMH save the ship in ways worthy of a Captain Proton adventure.

They watched the breakup with B'Elanna and an almost three-way catfight as the female members of the senior staff nearly came to blows over the Doctor. But it was the painting scenario, and Seven's unexpected reaction to it that had told him it was time to call in the Captain. He remembered the look of innocent bewilderment in Seven's blue eyes. He thought of the pink flush that colored her cheeks and he again felt anger at the Doctor for causing her to feel shame for the first time.

He himself hadn't been much help, to be honest. The sight of all that lovely creamy flesh exposed to his view had disrupted normal thought processes. How strange to have once fantasized about how she would look and suddenly virtually stumble upon her in all her glory.

Harry Kim, the most upstanding Ensign in Starfleet had jumped into action, after summoning the Captain, he'd stayed calm and tried to act as though what they were seeing was nothing out of the ordinary. He deserved a medal of his own for that accomplishment at least, he grinned. God, how long had he fantasized about her? Long enough to make him the laughing stock of the ship. Too damn long. He still dreamed about her but that was different, he couldn't really control his subconscious, right? He just wouldn't allow himself to fantasize about her anymore, it was self-defeating.

It occurred to him that he didn't fantasize about anything anymore. He did his work, practiced his clarinet, exercised regularly and ran an occasional holoprogram with Tom. What a life he had, he might as well go into stasis until the end of the trip. 'Stop it,' he ordered himself. He looked down at the blonde head resting on his shoulder. He'd run into Marla several times since she'd been on Voyager. She was intelligent, sensitive and obviously pretty, but beyond worrying about her as a colleague he felt nothing.

His subconscious came into play as images of another blonde hair flooded his mind. Idly, he let himself recall when Seven of Nine, Tertiary Adjunct to Unimatrix Zero One had come aboard Voyager. He hadn't known it at the time, of course because he'd been in the process of dying. Or at least changing into a Species 8472, considering the options, death would have been preferable. The Captain, always eager for a new challenge, had decided that Seven should stay and stay she did.

He'd been intrigued with her, even before the Doctor's admirable work to restore her human appearance; there had been something about her that had caught his interest. He'd been the first person to be assigned to work with her. He'd been pleasant and eager to help her fit in. She had showed her gratitude by knocking him out and attempting to contact the Collective.

Then Chakotay had ordered him to work with her to build Astrometrics, and he had gotten the chance to work with the new and improved Seven of Nine. They'd worked side by side for almost eight weeks. He smiled at the memory. Thank God he could smile now, because back then it had been hell, and heaven he admitted to himself.

He remembered the first time he'd ever seen her in her new 'therapeutic' suit, he'd felt like parts of his brain had short-circuited. He'd never felt like that before, even as a teenager he'd been easygoing with girls. He'd never felt the stress of pursuit or the anguish of possible rejection. Liking a woman's company and showing it had been enough. He'd been pretty lucky, he understood, but with Seven his luck ran out. He became tongue-tied and flustered in her presence, partially because his long-denied libido had suddenly awakened and demanded attention. It had treated him to a virtual barrage of erotic dreams and fantasies to show him what he had been missing.

Seven hadn't helped either. He'd understood that she was uncomfortable in her new surroundings, even though she would never admit it. She had become accustomed to his presence, which she showed by invading his personal space to such a degree that sometimes he almost lost track of where he ended and she began. They worked well together, that was true. Sometimes she seemed to enjoy his presence, sometimes she didn't.

She'd given him glimpses of the woman she could be, and then seeming to be frightened by the changes would pull back then slowly begin to flower again.

It had been tantalizing, excruciating but wonderful. Then slowly, too slowly, he admitted shamefaced, he'd been forced to understand that maybe she thought of him as a friend but anything else was a pipedream. He might as well howl for the moon, he wasn't going to get it. She was on a completely different level then he was. So superior and advanced that even daring to think that she could care for him on a personal level was beyond ludicrous.

So he summoned up all his renowned concentration and focus and laid down the law to himself. No more, no more time wasted thinking about what wasn't going to happen. As he'd told himself when he knew it was time to move on from Libby's memory. It was time to live in the here and now.

Easier said than done, of course. It was one thing to move on from a woman thousands of light years away. It was quite another to try to move on when you still spent a considerable amount of time in the presence of the woman you'd loved for over a year. Love, had he loved her? He'd loved Libby and his love had been returned. They'd had a wonderful, caring adult relationship.

What had he felt for Seven? He lusted for her, that was a given, he shook his head ruefully. But as perfect as her body and face were, it had been her eyes that captured him. He snorted to himself, imagining the sarcastic responses if that ever got out, 'Yeah right Harry. You look at her, all of her, and it's her eyes that knock you out.' But it was true. He'd always thought the expression 'getting lost in her eyes' was just that, an expression, kind of flowery and maybe poetic but he'd never considered that it could happen to him.

He could remember the feeling of staring deeply, dumbly, he reminded himself, into their soft blue depths and losing himself.

There had been times when just looking into her eyes made him feel as though his heart was beating just for her. He'd learned to read the subtle change of expression in her eyes with as much ease as he read musical notes. It was before she'd learned enough about her emotions to shield them from expression, before she'd mastered that cold, indifferent gaze.

He could remember so many times when they'd been working together, when she boasted of Borg superiority but her eyes told a different story. They told of fear, of loneliness and sometimes of amusement and even gratitude. He smiled cynically in the half-light, was I wrong? Did I imagine all that because that's what I wanted to see?

Despite what Tom and the others believed, what he'd felt for her was beyond just lust. He wanted the best for her, wanted to help her see that her returning humanity was a blessing, not a curse. There had been times when she was suffering, when he knew that if he could have he would have taken her pain for her.

Eventually she began to understand herself and her humanity more fully, that was when he understood that he was not one of her inner circle. The Captain was included of course and the Doctor, Tuvok also had been allowed in. But it was the Doctor who gradually took center stage in her development.

Center stage was the correct term, he grimaced. Privately he thought some of the EMH's lessons were painfully overt and had made her the center of attention instead of teaching her how to fit in. It irked him that the Doctor reveled in the attention he got as Seven's teacher. You're just jealous, admit it. Yes, it's true. As much as he'd looked askance at some of the Doctor's lessons, Seven seemed to willingly comply with his direction.

It's not as though she doesn't know how to say no, he thought, she managed to say it countless times to you. Now it looked like they might be an item, maybe. He still didn't know what to think, Seven seemed to have gotten over her initial embarrassment after the daydream program. She and the EMH ran holodeck programs together, that the Doctor pointed out, were no longer just instructional. She had kissed him, right on the cheek in front of the crew. Stop it, he ordered himself. You moved on, Seven did too, that's life.

He had moved on. There had been Tal. She had been so amazingly different, such an unknown entity. That had been part of the thrill, he admitted to himself. The crew of Voyager still thought of him as 'Poor Harry, pining for home and pining for Seven.' Tal didn't see that, she looked at him and saw an exciting man, a man who had had incredible adventures and lived to tell about it. She had been thrilled to listen to his stories about his experiences, about Earth, anything. Having spent her whole life aboard the generational ship, she delighted in hearing stories about things as simple as swimming in an ocean or climbing a mountain.

He could still see how her eyes seemed to glitter with excitement when he walked into a room, so opposite from the indifferent blue orbs that Seven cast upon him. She had made her interest in him known almost from the beginning. He remembered early on, when she had seen him laughing at something B'Elanna had said, she had nearly pounced on him later as they worked together. Virtually demanding to know whom he'd been talking to and what their relationship was.

He had been flattered, hell, beyond flattered, he couldn't remember the last time someone had been jealous of him. She made it clear she desired him as a man, and come hell or high water she was going to get what she wanted. He'd never had a woman advance on him like that. Correction, he'd never had a woman who actually understood the passion two people could generate, throw herself at him like that.

And he'd wanted it to happen. Almost from the moment they had met, he had felt the incredible need, the mind-numbing want. It had been so exciting, so amazingly intense. He still wondered sometimes how much of what he'd felt was the result of the virus she'd passed on to him. He'd felt like he was on another plane of existence. He had been beyond thinking and reason. He wanted someone who had wanted him back. It was the most exhilarating sensation he'd ever felt. He knew he was going to have her and he had.

He sighed, and then what? His need had driven him to do things that now, as he looked back on them made the icy fingers of embarrassment race down his neck. At the time he'd dared anyone to try and separate them. He'd even challenged the Captain. Then afterwards as he suffered through the pain of withdrawal, not allowing himself treatment he'd told himself he was being magnanimous in his martyrdom.

Until one afternoon, barely a week after they'd left the Varro. He closed his eyes, swallowing down the lump in his throat. He'd been working with Samantha Wildman, sweet, gentle Sam. He hadn't had the chance to work with her very much, but that day they were assigned together in the corridor of a Jeffries tube. He'd noticed right away that she seemed distant, almost cold, definitely not the warm person he was used to. He asked how things were going, sounding her out. She was fine, Naomi was fine so what was wrong? Nothing, she asserted. He'd kept after her, was something bothering her, someone?

Let it alone, she'd insisted, but he hadn't. Then it had happened, Samantha Wildman had turned into an angry mother bear defending her cub. The scene was indelibly etched on his brain. "Do you know who's bothering me? You're bothering me. How dare you Harry! I do everything in my power to watch over Naomi and keep her from getting hurt. I worry about how she's growing up and if she'll grow up and all the time I worry if she's safe but you, you decide you want sex and nothing else matters. You bring a virus on board, what, you didn't think we knew? We all know. Harry Kim, the proud carrier of a Delta Quadrant STD. Thankfully you're the only one suffering and believe me, I hope you really suffered," she stopped trying to control the trembling in her voice.

Drawing in an angry breath, she had continued, "Did you stop to think that maybe, just maybe, all those classes in interspecies relations at the Academy were there for a reason? Did you stop to think that the 150 people on board, who put their lives on the line for each other every damn day were worth more than you getting laid! I don't care if you think it was love or whatever, you-are-a-selfish-bastard. How dare you," she had repeated, her eyes glistening with tears.

He'd stood in frozen silence, feeling as though a bucket of cold water had been poured over him. Then it had hit him, that she was right. He'd let everyone on the crew down. He deserved to be the laughing stock of Voyager. Even now his warm thoughts of his time with Tal were tainted by the thought of what he could have done, added to that were the voices that chided him, despite his heated protestations to the Captain they had never discussed love or a future. Tal had never spoken of her life, which had, he admitted, turned out to be a double one. Finally, when he had tentatively broached the subject of her possibly coming on Voyager she had, in so many words, turned him down flat.

They had literally been two ships that pass in the night.

So he had gone to work to try to rebuild his shattered image. Going out of his way to show that he was still an honorable person and trying not to see the crewmembers laughing at him behind his back. Oddly enough it had been Seven who'd helped him during that time, which, all things considered was the last

thing he had expected. She had stood by him, never again speaking of what had happened after her request for him to 'get well' in the Mess Hall. Her silent presence had been helpful. Working together settled his jangled nerves. Even though occasionally he caught her looking at him, the expression in her eyes clearly wondering what had happened to the Ensign with the predictable mind that she had come to know.

So here he was sitting in the semidarkness, holding a pretty woman in his arms and instead of just enjoying it, he was thinking of another woman in his life.

A sound from overhead drew his attention upward. He saw the emergency hatch pushed away. In the dim light he saw a pair of icy, crystal blue eyes look down at him, her brow arched quizzically, then she disappeared.

Bemused, he watched a pair of smooth, fabric covered legs appear, followed by a shapely body that slowly slid through the hatch. 'The blue one, my favorite, it must be Wednesday,' he thought irreverently as she landed in front of him. She settled the small utility bag over her shoulder

"Seven, so glad you could drop in," he smiled pleasantly.

"Ensign Kim," she nodded, her eyes sweeping over him and then Marla who was still lying on his lap unconscious. She looked from Marla to him with a raised brow. She then pulled out a tricorder and moved it in front of him. Coldly she questioned him, "You are undamaged?"

"I'm fine," he answered. "Marla took a pretty bad bump to the head. She needs to go to sickbay. What's our status?"

"Transporters are still offline. As I was closest to your position the Captain messaged me to rescue you." She waved the tricorder over Marla's head. The sound stirred the still disoriented young woman, her eyes fluttered open only to see a cold pair of eyes, one surrounded with remaining Borg hardware staring into hers, she gasped, pressing her head into Harry's shoulder.

It's okay Marla," he soothed her. "It's just Seven. She's here to get us out. She won't hurt you, I won't let her," He tried not to grin at the look of surprise on the former Borg's face.

Without another word, Seven turned and using the hydrospanner she'd brought with her, began a series of entries onto the emergency console, which overrode the programming. Both he and Marla blinked at the sudden return to full illumination. He then felt the turbolift begin to move. Their process was slow. At each deck Seven was forced to manually override the commands.

Finally the doors opened to deck two and the Sickbay. He carefully shifted Marla to make it easier for her to rise. She was unsteady on her feet but seemed to want to try to walk on her own. He felt her sway and almost fall. Seven attempted to hold her other arm to provide assistance but Marla pulled away. He shook his head at Seven, then lifted Marla carefully into his arms and carried her to Sickbay. The former Borg watched their progress with an expression of cold disapproval. He wasn't sure what she disapproved of, but now wasn't the time to ask.

In Sickbay he stood with Marla, who became agitated again in the Doctor's presence, obviously remembering the Equinox's deranged EMH. He stood by her as the Doctor went to work to heal her injury. When the Medical Officer attempted to give her a hypo that would help her rest, she anxiously tried to rise from the table, obviously frightened at the thought of nightmares that she couldn't wake herself up from. He had had to gently push her back to the table, holding her hand and stroking her hair to soothe her.

She had been frightened and ashamed but at his nod of encouragement she quietly explained to the EMH what the problem was. She had to be quiet because Seven still lingered by the door, obviously in no hurry to leave. The Doctor then understanding the situation summarily dismissed her. The Medical Officer then changed the sedative in her medication to one that contained high serotonin levels, which would ensure pleasant dreams. Finally she drifted off to sleep. The Doctor assured him she would be fine and he'd left to begin the long climb through the Jeffries tubes to Engineering.

Finally, things had returned to normal, at least almost normal. Communications and transporters were online and B'Elanna was satisfied enough with the status of the repairs to let Alpha shift leave their stations and call it a day.

He had returned to his quarters, changed clothes and contemplated replicating dinner there. But he'd felt the need for companionship and headed to the Mess hall. That had been his first mistake. He'd spotted Tom and B'Elanna sitting at a small table. The Helmsman eagerly waved to him, pointing to an empty seat. Tom had been too eager, he understood now, but at the time he'd simply nodded, grabbed a tray of assorted multicolored piles of food, a mug of something hot and joined them. That had been his second mistake.

By the time he realized why Tom wanted him there it was too late. The Chief Helmsman and the Chief Engineer were angry at each other, well, what else was new, and Harry Kim was going to be caught in the middle, again, what else was new?

B'Elanna was angry because due to the Pilot's maneuvers Voyager had taken some serious damage that would require extensive and laborious repairs. Tom was angry because he thought B'Elanna could at least appreciate the fact that his expert skills had saved the ship from potentially greater damage.

He knew he was in a lose-lose situation. If he defended Tom's flying B'Elanna would be angry. If he showed sympathy for the amount of work that would be needed for repair, Tom would be angry. God, he hated this, hated being caught in the middle of another Paris-Torres argument.

Why couldn't they appreciate what they had? He would have given anything to share his life with someone again. But instead of treating their love as a special gift they seemed to be determined to pick their relationship to shreds. For the simple reason that both of them, deep down, thought the other couldn't possibly love someone like themselves.

He didn't want to deal with being Harry Kim, best friend right now. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temples tiredly. So intent was he on his thoughts that he didn't notice Seven's arrival until she placed her tray across from him. "Lieutenant, Ensign's. May I join you?" she asked.

Before B'Elanna could respond to her question, he spoke up, "Of course Seven. You're welcome to sit with us." Tom greeted her pleasantly and B'Elanna managed to at least not glare at her.

"Ensign," Seven addressed him. "Are you well? I noted your weariness as I approached. Are you sufficiently recovered from your experience in the turbolift this afternoon?"

He chuckled, "I'm fine Seven. There was nothing to recover from. I am a little tired but it's because I just spent five hours in a Jefferies tube."

"That's right," Tom spoke up, his eyes glinting speculatively, "I forgot, you and Marla were trapped in the turbolift for an hour."

"Thirty-seven minutes," Seven corrected him automatically.

"Thanks for the update Seven," Tom said sarcastically, "So what happened for thirty-seven minutes, buddy?"

"Nothing happened," he said, "Well, Marla took a knock to the head but that's about it. We basically waited until good, old Seven got us out." At that moment he looked across the room and saw Marla enter. She was with Sophen and Morrow, two of her former Equinox crewmates. She walked slowly, still a little pale from her injury. He had noticed that the four male crewmembers that had come from the Equinox were all very protective of her. They seemed to consider themselves her big brothers.

"Well, look who just walked in," B'Elanna observed wryly, "Come on Harry, dish, or we'll walk over and just ask her what happened. I'm sure her self-appointed bodyguards would just love that."

"Enough," Harry tried to stop her. He realized that Marla had seen him, her eyes widened with embarrassment, obviously thinking that he was discussing their turbolift adventure. Sophen motioned her to an empty table, indicating that she should rest and he'd get her dinner for her as he and Morrow approached the food line.

"Excuse me," he said suddenly, "I'll be back in a minute." After a quick stop at the replicator he approached her, "Hi Marla," he announced his presence. She turned to look up at him, then at his former table, where the three people still seated appeared to be involved in an interesting discussion.

"Harry," she nodded.

"Don't worry," he assured her earnestly. "I haven't told anyone about what you told me and I won't, you have my word."

"Thanks. I appreciate that," she said gently.

"How are you feeling?" he asked.

"Better," she admitted. "The stuff the Doctor gave me really let me sleep. He informed the Captain that I should take twenty-four hours off. So I'll be back on duty tomorrow night."

"That's good to hear," he said earnestly. Holding out a napkin-covered plate, he placed it on the table along with a large glass of milk. "I want you to keep your strength up, so these are for you." Then he removed the napkin.

"Chocolate brownies!" she exclaimed with delight.

"With walnuts," he added with a pleased smile.

"But I can't let you-" she tried to say.

"Sure you can," he said. "Once of these days when you're flush with credits you can treat me. I'm a chocolate chip cookie man myself." Before she could protest further, he wished her good night, greeted Sophen and Morrow as they approached and returned to the table.

Before he could even seat himself the teasing began. From B'Elanna, "Chocolate brownies. How sweet. You know Starfleet, some men say it with flowers."

Tom chimed in, "And it was really big of you to hold her the whole time you were on the turbolift," then shared a conspiratorial glance with his mate.

To his surprise Seven spoke out in her usual superior voice, "Ensign Kim also carried her to Sickbay when she was unable to walk. I attempted to offer assistance but he would not allow it." Her brow implant arched derisively at her fellow instigators.

He sat stunned by the look of malicious intent on her face. This was a side of Seven he had never seen before. And that wasn't all, there was something in her eyes that was beyond malice. If it were anyone else...

B'Elanna's eyes widened with salacious delight, "Harry, how gallant of you. I love being carried to bed."

"I didn't carry her to bed," he replied, telling himself to stay calm, "I carried her to Sickbay. If I was trying to be romantic, that wouldn't be my first choice of places to go."

"So there are places you go to create a romantic atmosphere, Sickbay not being one of them?" Seven cut in, a sly smile playing around the corners of her mouth.

"Nice one Seven," Tom said respectfully.

"Thank you Lieutenant," she responded. "The Doctor and I have been practicing witty, cocktail, party conversation."

'What else have you been practicing?' Harry thought with chagrin. "That's as witty as you get Seven?" he retorted coolly. "Sounds like you need some more practice."

They stared at each other, her rigid stance showed her anger. He faced her squarely, no surrender, no retreat. Not this time.

Tom changed the subject, focusing again on his friend, "So Harry, Seven told us that when she opened the ceiling hatch, you two were lying on the floor, with the lights dim. Sound like the stuff of quite a few fantasies to me."

"You are referring to sexual fantasies?" Seven inquired.

"Yeah, the best kind," Tom said with cocky smile.

"Ensign Paris," Seven said. "Why would being trapped in a turbolift be a subject of fantasy?"

Tom leaned back, appearing to give the question more consideration than he thought it warranted. "You see Seven," the Pilot said authoritatively, "There are several factors involved. First, there is the unexpectedness of it. Then, there is the danger. You don't know when the turbolift will start again. That creates a sense of heightened excitement. Next, I would say there is the focus factor."

"Explain," she demanded.

"I will," he assured her. "There is nothing else in the turbolift but you and the person you're with. Nothing to do but concentrate on each other."

"And people consider that exciting?" she questioned him.

"Very exciting, if you're with the right person," Tom assured her.

"I see," she said thoughtfully. "So you are saying that if Crewman Gilmore had not been rendered unconscious, she and Ensign Kim might have copulated on the turbolift?"

"Wait a minute!" he cut in. "This is my private life you're speculating about. Just stop it," he demanded.

"Come on Harry," B'Elanna said, "At least admit you thought about it while you were holding her in your arms."

"It's okay Har," the pilot assured him. "Everyone fantasizes about being stuck in a turbolift."

"What I fantasize about is none of your business," he retorted. He realized he was beginning to lose it and ordered himself to pull back.

"So you did consider it? You just choose not to share your fantasies with us?" Seven interjected coolly.

Tom and B'Elanna both nodded approvingly at the blond woman, who for the first time was enjoying a sense of camaraderie with the young couple, albeit at Harry's expense.

This was too much.' Leave now before you say something you'll regret.' Rising, he said, "Well, this has been fun. I have some daily reports to read. See you all tomorrow."

As he turned to leave, he heard Tom call out, "Come on Harry, you know we're just teasing."

"Yes, I know you're just teasing," he said pointedly, allowing himself one glance at Seven. Depositing his tray he left the Mess Hall. Where now? The thought of returning to his quarters was not appealing. Both holodecks were booked. Telling himself to keep moving, he felt the anger surge through him.

They didn't mean it, he reminded himself. Tom and B'Elanna needed a whipping boy and he was it. Stepping onto the turbolift he thought quickly and asked for the deck he wanted. But Seven? Her evident enjoyment of his discomfort surprised him. After all this time how could she still hurt him so much?

So now he stood, staring with unseeing eyes at the viewer, the recorded image of Earth slowly revolving before him. Thinking back to all the day's events that had led him to Astrometrics. He felt like he was being pulled in different directions, everyone wanting different things.

Who was he? Harry Kim, the most upstanding young ensign in Starfleet? Harry Kim, best friend? Harry Kim, Chief of Operations? Harry Kim, understanding savior of women in distress? He'd never felt like this on Earth. He'd always been sure of himself and his place in the world.

He focused his eyes on the sight of Earth revolving slowly, aloud he said, "I don't know who I am anymore."

"Who do you wish to be?"

He whipped around, so many emotions surged forward, embarrassment, surprise, anger, pain. "What do you want? Did I set off some secret alarm you've installed so no one can enter your sacred domain without your express permission?" he spat out.

She faced him, her eyes cautious. "When you did not answer your door chime, I requested your location from the computer."

"Why did you want to find me at all?" he demanded. "Oh, wait a minute, I know, you thought of a few more witty bon mots. Is the star pupil looking for a little extra credit? Great, just run and tell Tom and B'Elanna that you caught poor old Harry Kim pining away for home. That ought to merit a few jokes.

Just put them all down on a PADD for me, would you? I've had all the fun I can stand today. I'm leaving." Before she could respond to his tirade he turned, reaching out to reset the picture on the viewer.

Her Borg-enhanced hand came down over his to stop him, efficiently she moved his fingers away from the button, then straightened her posture. Squaring her shoulders she regarded him for moment before speaking, "Do not leave…Please…I am aware that I damaged your feelings, I wish to apologize."

He froze, "You want to apologize to me? I guess there 'is' a first time for everything."

"Apparently so," she agreed, the faintest curl of a smile, curving her lips. "Perhaps now would be a good time for a change of subject?"

Completely befuddled, he managed to gasp, "Excuse me?"

She moved closer then clarified patiently, "The Doctor has explained that there are times when a change of subject is a prudent course of action. You are overwrought, perhaps now would be one of those times?"

"The Doctor," Harry grimaced, "Of course." He glanced away, speaking derisively, "What should we talk about? The weather? It's pretty much a constant in space, Neelix's latest culinary attempt? That's pretty much a constant too. I'm open to ideas," he added brightly.

Her clear blue eyes blinked in surprise, "You are employing sarcasm. A classic human self-defense mechanism," she stated.

"Don't you dare catalog me," he spat out as he turned to face her. "I'm not a specimen. I don't want to change the subject." His anger took control as he continued, "I want to talk about what happened this afternoon. If you don't want to talk about it, leave, because I'm staying right here." As her eyes widened during his tirade. Abruptly, he turned away, resting his hands on the console. Embarrassment flushed his face as he struggled to regulate his breathing. "I'm sorry Seven, I didn't mean," he stopped, knowing that there was no way to apologize for his behavior.

Suddenly, to his surprise he felt a soft touch on his arm. He looked down to see her Borg-enhanced hand covering his. Her voice was gentle as she said, "Understand that I did not mean to damage you. And I bear you no ill will. Perhaps it is time to discuss the events of this afternoon."

He brought himself up to full height, looking at the viewer before them. Her hand came to rest on his forearm as she moved to stand behind him, their bodies almost touching. This was surreal, a dream, right? Well, if it's a dream I can say anything I want. He thought for a moment and then spoke, "I couldn't believe that you could say what you did. Tom and B'Elanna, yeah, I'm used to that. They were angry at each other and took it out on me. What are friends for right? But you've never been so," his voice trailed off. "I guess old Doc's humanity lessons are working. You definitely scored an 'A' in biting sarcasm."

She stood so close he could feel the heat from her body, though the only point of contact was her hand on his arm. Her words fanned his cheek softly, "I am sorry."

He stood frozen. She's sorry. "I just don't understand why? Did you just want to join in the 'Let's humiliate Harry' club? If it were anyone else I would have... Forget it."

"Continue," she urged him.

He groped for words. He knew what he wanted to say but the logical part of his mind protested the very idea, "If it were anyone else I would have thought they were jealous. But you aren't, I'm not," he ended helplessly.

"Jealousy," she repeated almost to herself. "That would explain many things."

"You?" he almost snorted, what the hell did he miss?

She continued, "This afternoon when I looked down and saw you on the floor with your arms around Crewman Gilmore I experienced jealousy."

He felt her hand tighten ever so slightly on his arm. Using one of her favorite commands, he said, "Explain."

"I saw you holding her. Your concern for her was evident."

"Of course I was concerned for her," he replied with exasperation. "She was-"

"You cared for her," she cut him off.

He licked his lips, "Seven, she was in pain, she needed help." He could feel the rounded curves of her figure press against his back as she moved closer. Every nerve was screaming, 'What's happening here?'

Her voice seemed to envelop him. He was drowning in her words, "I envied her. Even in Sickbay you stood by her. You soothed her. You care for her," she accused him again.

"Not the way you mean," he breathed. "Not the way 'I think' you mean," he said carefully.

"Explain," she demanded.

He stared unseeing into the viewer. The logical part of his brain was fighting a losing battle with the primal. This was too much, he couldn't think straight. "I can't explain."

"Yes, you can," she seemed to plead with him. "You have always been able to answer my questions. It is vital that you explain your feelings to me."

"I can't. They're jumbled up," he panted. Admit it, he demanded to himself, "I'm afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

Do it, he told himself, it can't hurt anymore than it does right now. "I'm afraid that I might be wrong."

For a moment there was silence. They stood frozen, each afraid of what would come next. Then a voice, so small it felt almost like his conscience, whispered, "You are not wrong."

He let out his breath, not realizing he'd been holding it. Carefully he constructed his words, "Marla is a crewmember. She was in pain. I wanted to help her. In Sickbay she was afraid. She hadn't told the Doctor she'd been having problems with things," he let the words taper off and then continued. "When she came into the Mess hall I went over to tell her not to worry, that I hadn't said anything about what we'd talked about. I do not have romantic feelings toward her." Remembering a long-ago conversation he stated, "I do not want a romantic affiliation with her."

To his surprise he felt her other hand come up and rest on his right arm. He realized she was trembling. In the softest voice he'd ever heard her use she admitted, "I wanted it to be me."

He resisted the almost overwhelming urge to look at her, "Go on," he pleaded as a tiny spark flickered to life in the pit of his stomach.

"When I saw you with her today, caring for her, soothing her. I wanted it to be me," she paused. "Once you looked at me in a similar fashion. You cared for me. Then gradually that expression of caring left, you looked at me as a colleague, perhaps as a friend, but you no longer looked at me in that way."

He closed his eyes, "In what way?"

Her voice wavered as she answered, "As though her pain were your pain."

Clenching his fists at his sides he spoke, his voice husky with emotion, "How long has it been since you let me see your pain? You shut yourself up away from me. The only ones you thought were good enough to see you hurting, were the Doctor and the Captain, and maybe Tuvok. But I never stopped caring Seven, I just," he paused, trying to hold back the flood of emotions, "I just had to stop wearing my heart on my sleeve. It hurt so much. I had to tell myself that anything more between us just wasn't meant to be."

"Perhaps it just was not meant to be, then," she offered, her voice trembling with uncertainty.

The spark of hope had become a single candle burning in the dark. He swallowed before asking, "Do you think that maybe if I showed that I cared for you in 'that' way, you would appreciate it now?"

She let her cheek rest against his hair as she spoke into his ear, "I can say with assurance that your attentions would be appreciated now."

He smiled, he couldn't help it. A broad warm smile that evoked a similar one from his companion. She looked over his shoulder at the Earth, still rotating slowly, then spoke, "Do you recall an instance on Arturis' ship when you spoke to me of Earth?"

"Sure I do," he nodded in surprise, he'd never known Seven to reminisce. "I may not have an eidetic memory but that moment is etched in my mind."

"Because it evoked memories of your home planet?" she asked.

"No," he said softly. "Because it was the first time I'd seen you really smile." He paused, trying to put into words the emotions he'd felt that day, finally he simply said, "I felt as though I'd been given a special gift." He felt her arms slide across his chest. He closed his eyes, savoring the warm feeling of contentment. Just enjoy this, he told himself, this moment might never happen again. But he couldn't, he cursed his conscience, the flame in his stomach began to flicker, "Seven, do you know what you're doing?"

She murmured softly, "My study of the databases indicated that this was called an embrace, sometimes it is referred to as a hug. It is a gesture of affection. Am I incorrect?"

"No, that's right. But shouldn't you be saving your gestures of affection for the Doctor?"

She stiffened her posture, pulling back slightly but she did not remove her arms.

Cocking her head slightly, she asked, "Why would I wish to embrace the Doctor?"

With a grimace he pointed out the obvious, "You kissed him."

"That is correct. After I summoned the Doctor to his party, Ensign Paris took me aside and explained that the Doctor was concerned that I felt apprehension in his presence because of my appearances in his daydreams. He suggested that I kiss him to show that I forgave him. He is a friend of the Doctor's. I assumed he would know the correct gesture to show that the Doctor I bore him no animosity."

"Yeah," Harry hissed. "Tom's a real buddy."

Her soft voice continued, "I did point out to the Doctor that it was a platonic kiss and that I had no intention of posing for him. Later I decided my feelings of apprehension were unwarranted," she explained.

"Really?" Harry asked, wishing that his powers of conversation weren't slightly compromised by the feeling of her still pressed snugly against back.

"I was not the only female featured romantically in his daydreams," Seven pointed out. "The Captain and Lieutenant Torres also figured prominently. They appeared to bear him no ill will and I decided to follow their example."

"Right," he agreed, deciding that now was not the right time to describe the heated tirade that he and Tom had been privy too. How B'Elanna had begun with describing in excruciating detail what damage she could do to his holomatrix. It had ended with a colorful mixture of Klingon and Spanish curses so heatedly interwoven that the universal translator had given up in defeat and spewed out a fascinating new kind of white noise.

"Do you understand now that I do not have a romantic affiliation with the Doctor?" she asked. At his nod she continued, "Very well, now we should discuss our affiliation."

"Our?" he whispered. He closed his eyes. This was too much. The woman he had longed for and dreamed of was leaning against him, her arms wrapped around him, and wanted to discuss a relationship with him. This wasn't possible he was Harry Kim, his relationships ended in disaster.

Suddenly he felt her move her arms away. He turned quickly, holding her by her slender waist before she pulled away completely. Her blue eyes were wide with confusion. "I am sorry. Perhaps I assumed in error."

"No, Seven," he breathed. "You're not wrong. I want more than anything to have a relationship with you. I just, I'm having a hard time getting my brain and my mouth to work together. You have to understand, I never thought you would ever want something like that with me."

She nodded, "I see," allowing her arms to rest on his shoulders. "This sudden turn of events is disorienting for me as well." Uncertainty still flickered in her eyes. "Let us clarify the situation. I wish to discuss a romantic affiliation between us. Is that acceptable to you?"

He couldn't help it, he chuckled, "It's very acceptable to me."

Obvious relief flooded her face, "I am pleased."

"So am I," he responded.

Her brow implant arched as she asked, "I have noted that many people who interact interpersonally call each other by their first names. May I call you Harry now?"

"I think that would be fine," he grinned at her. Hell, he'd dreamed of her calling him Harry, literally.

She smiled in response. She thought for a moment, then ventured, "Harry, I am uncertain how to proceed. The steps the Doctor outlined for me previously when I attempted to date do not appear to be applicable to our relationship. What parameters should we follow?"

Looking into her questioning eyes he understood her uncertainty. This was totally new to him also. None of his previous relationships had prepared him for this unique woman. He raised one hand, gently cupping her cheek, his voice tender as he answered her, "No parameters Seven. Let's just be honest with each other. I know this is all new to you. We'll go as slowly as you want. One step at a time. As long as we can be together I'm happy."

Her hand came up and she slowly stroked his cheek. Her eyes were soft, open and unguarded. He could see into their blue depths and again he felt he'd been given a special gift. "I am happy also," she said.

Warm waves suffused his body, "That's all I want," he whispered. Turning his head, he pressed a soft kiss onto her palm. An expression of surprised pleasure lit her face. Her eyes flickered to his lips, then softly expectant her eyes met his, no question was asked but he understood, and pulling her closer, he kissed her. It began gentle as a whisper but slowly evolved, growing strong as a promise before it finally ended, her head coming to rest on his cheek as he held her, savoring the exquisite feel of her in his arms.

"That was most pleasing," she murmured.

He stroked her hair, smiling to himself, "I agree."

"I must confess," she continued. "I questioned the databases' assertions that the simple touching of lips could be so enjoyable."

"There was nothing simple about it," he asserted.

"That is true," she agreed.

He felt her raise her head to peer over his shoulder. He realized she was watching the monitor with the picture of the Earth still revolving slowly. "Is something wrong? Do you want me to change the picture?"

"No, I do not. I want you to show me what you see," she replied.

He turned, keeping one arm around her waist, "I don't understand?"

Pointing at the picture she explained, "I see an M class planet, one of thousands in the galaxy. I can tell you the atmospheric levels, the population, available minerals, the ratio of water to land. But I have no connection to it. I wish for you to share with me what you see when you look at Earth."

He beamed at her, leaning over to gently kiss her cheek, just because he could. Then he turned, reaching out, to begin a series of commands, pulling in information from other databases as effortlessly as he read musical notes. His eyes sparkled with determination as he carefully wove a visual essay for her. "What you have to understand is that even though I'm looking at the Earth, in my mind's eye I'm seeing special places and people. I'm not going to try and show you everything right now. There's too much, it would be overwhelming. We'll start on Northern California where I grew up, it's beautiful there and there's a lot to see."

Over an hour later they still stood in front of the monitor. They had changed positions to one that most pleased Seven. Her standing behind him, pressed against his back, her arms draped over his shoulders as she looked over his shoulder. This kept his hands free to pull up more data and if it meant that it gave her the chance to explore the nape of his neck and his shoulders with her fingertips, he wasn't complaining.

He tapped at the controls, pointing out, "We're heading into the Napa Valley, it's still the biggest wine-producing area in North America. The best time to go there is in the fall when the grapes are being harvested. As far as you can see, there are rolling hills and acres and acres of vines waiting to be harvested. The leaves on the trees are changing color, it's a little chilly. You can rent bikes and ride through the hills."

They turned at the sound of the Astrometrics doors opening. Harry was surprised to see the Captain and Chakotay enter and their expressions mirrored his own. Seven did not bother to change her position, if anything she took a firmer grasp of his shoulders.

"Captain, Commander," Harry nodded. He had no idea how to explain this compromising position. He knew that the Captain felt almost parental toward Seven and didn't know if she'd welcome him as her romantic interest.

Chakotay spoke first, a sly, dimpled smile on his face, "That's an interesting new position to study planets, Seven. But it doesn't look very efficient."

"It is not," Seven agreed. "However, I find it to be very pleasing. I should inform both of you that Ensign Kim and I have decided to share a romantic affiliation."

The Command staff exchanged pleased smiles, "That's wonderful," the Captain beamed.

"I think so," Harry agreed with enthusiasm.

"When did all this happen?" Chakotay asked.

"Seventy-eight minutes ago," Seven answered with her usual precision.

Chakotay placed his hand on the Captain's back, "I think we're interrupting, we'll come back another time."

The Captain nodded, "Of course. We didn't mean to intrude."

"That is not necessary," Seven said. "I had forgotten your intentions to work in Astrometrics this evening. It is 2100 hours and I require regeneration, we will leave," she announced firmly, taking his hand in hers.

"That's right," Harry agreed, "It's late." Well, not late to him, but still, Seven was different, that was a part of her charm. They made their good-byes and left Astrometrics. His curiosity got the better of him as they walked down the corridor. "What are the Captain and Chakotay working on?"

An enigmatic smile curved her lips, "Nothing of importance."

Eyes wide with surprise he asked, "Excuse me?"

"In actuality," she explained, "They are doing what we were doing."

"Really?" Harry asked with added interest. "Everything?"

"I have never seen them engaged in an embrace," she admitted. "However, they are taking tours of places of interest to both of them. When I deleted old files I found requests for Dorvan five and Indiana. Several places in San Francisco were also requested."

"So you snooped," he couldn't resist teasing her.

"Not exactly," she said with a hint of indignation. "I merely read the file names as they were in the process of deletion."

"But why do that in Astrometrics?" Harry wondered. "You could go to the holodeck and just call up those programs and really experience them."

"I believe that the shift in their personal relationship is still tentative," she said thoughtfully, "Perhaps if they spend excessive amounts of time in the holodeck the crew would get the wrong impression. Whereas if they go to Astrometrics and call up files, people assume they are simply working."

"That's a very good assumption Seven," Harry said with pride. "Um, I was wondering," he said holding up their intertwined hands. "Are you okay with this?" She looked quizzically at him as he explained. "I mean is it okay with you that we show ourselves as a couple?

She scrutinized his expression, "Do you believe we should not appear in public together?"

"Yes, I mean no," he hastened to explain. "I just wasn't sure if you were comfortable with everyone knowing."

Firmly she replied, "I believe it would be beneficial for the crew to know we are involved. Several days ago I overheard a conversation between Lieutenant Nicoletti and Ensign Henley that I found unsettling. Public acknowledgment could possibly prevent any further conversations. Is that acceptable?"

"It's great," he admitted. "What did Sue and Donna say that unsettled you?"

"I was working at an adjacent terminal when you passed on your way to confer with Lieutenant Torres. Lieutenant Nicoletti observed that your posterior was the most pleasingly formed of all the males on the senior staff."

"What?" he sputtered, utterly surprised at her response.

"You wish me to repeat their comments verbatim?" Seven asked.

"No," he chuckled, holding up his other hand, "I get the idea. Thanks." Trying to look sincere and failing completely, he asked, "So how do you think we should spread the word about our relationship, a ship wide message on the comm system?" Placing his hand like a megaphone he continued, "Something like, 'Attention, women of Voyager, Harry Kim is involved with Seven of Nine you are no longer allowed to look at his butt."

An expression of pure amusement crossed the face of his blond companion. "That will not be necessary. I doubt the Captain would approve of internal communications being used in that manner." A sly grin showed, "Perhaps a message sent directly to their personal data banks would suffice?"

They were enjoying themselves so much that they walked into the open turbolift in front of them without looking at the destination. "Oops," he said, glancing down at the call numbers, "Looks like we're going to go all the way up before we can go down again."

"This is acceptable," she said, her eyes flashed mischievously at him, obviously remembering the conversation in the Mess hall.

He remembered that conversation also, two can play that game, he thought. "Computer, halt turbolift," he demanded. In an instant their ascent stopped, she looked at him challengingly. Taking her by the shoulders, he pressed her against the wall and kissed her. If their first kiss could have been called warm and strong, this one was definitely hot and searching. She returned his attentions eagerly, a whimper of pleasure rising from her throat that sent a hot wave rushing through his body. Her hands pressed against his back, urging him even closer. Just as suddenly as he began the kiss, he stepped away, "Computer, resume progress."

Seven didn't move, appearing to be frozen to the wall of the turbolift. Before she could question his sudden action the doors opened to allow Walter Ashmore to enter. He was dressed in athletic clothes, obviously on his way to the gym before his duty on Gamma Shift started.

"Evening Walt," Harry said, grinning with delight. Seven managed a nod at the Ensign.

"Evening Chief, Seven," he answered, smiling guardedly, thinking his boss had never been 'that' happy to see him. "Did you notice the turbolift stalled for a minute?" he asked.

Seven shot a wary glance at Harry. Knowing better than to glance at his companion, he responded promptly, "Yeah, I did. I'll make a note of it in the log. Must still have some glitches from this afternoon."

"I heard about that," Walt replied, "Were you hurt?"

"Nope, not a scratch," Harry shook his head. He hazarded a glance at Seven. Her face was flushed and her lips were red and puffed from their previous kiss. And her eyes, her eyes were so alive they sparkled. Focusing his attention on Ashmore, he continued, speaking casually, "Marla Gilmore took a pretty bad knock on the head but she's going to be fine." He smiled at the man opposite him, a plan forming in his mind. "Do me a favor would you? I want to make sure that she eats, to keep her strength up, you understand. Why don't you ask her to have dinner with you when she's back on duty?"

Ashmore smiled at his boss, "Is that an order?"

Harry squared his shoulders and retorted with a grin, "Do I have to make it one?"

"No sir!" Walt replied heartily.

The doors opened again, Harry and Seven exited the turbolift. As soon the doors closed Seven spoke, "That kiss was unnecessary."

"Correction," he replied, "That kiss was unexpected. It was very necessary." Looking squarely into her eyes he explained, "I 'have' fantasized about the turbolift, but my fantasies involved you."

She smiled, pleased with his response. Noting the direction they were heading, she looked to him for confirmation, "We are going to Cargo Bay 2?"

"Yes, we are," he admitted.

"And then what will happen?" she inquired.

"We will kiss goodnight and then you will regenerate," he replied promptly.

"I see," she then asked, "What will happen tomorrow?" as they reached the doors to Cargo Bay two.

Harry paused at the door. Placing his hands around her slender waist he asked, "What would you like to happen?"

Soft blue eyes looked into his, hesitantly she said, "I would like to continue our tours. Perhaps we could move on to tours on the holodeck."

Delighted, he grinned, "That would be wonderful, Seven. Where do you want to go? There's tons of places to visit on Earth, you name it and I'll search the databases for programs tonight."

"Is it necessary to limit our excursions to Earth?" she questioned him, placing her hands on his chest.

"No, not at all. Is there someplace you would like to see?" he said quickly.

"I wish to visit K'Tari," she replied.

His eyes widened in pleased surprise, "Really? Oh, because of Naomi?"

"No," she smiled, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "Because someone once told me that the K'Tarian moonrise was beautiful."

"Ohhh," he said, understanding and playing along. "It's funny you should say that, because someone once told me that beauty was irrelevant."

"Obviously that person was misinformed," she answered coolly.

"Obviously," he replied, grinning with delight. "Okay, tomorrow night I'll pull up the K'Tarian moonrise on the holodeck for us."

"That is acceptable," she nodded.

"Okay then, it's a date, our first date," he chuckled at the idea. Then because he couldn't resist it, he added, "I'm glad I'm finally a candidate."

Seven looked squarely into his eyes, "My remark hurt you, I am sorry."

"Don't be," he brushed it off. "I know you didn't mean to hurt my feelings, you were just stating a fact. I was not a candidate."

"That is incorrect," was her response, guilt clouded her eyes as she admitted, "I wished to hurt you."

Stunned by her statement, he swallowed before asking, "Why, Seven?"

For the first time she couldn't meet his eyes, dropping them before replying, "The process of choosing a potential candidate was disconcerting. Your comment to the effect that you met some of the criteria the Doctor had outlined confused me. I had eliminated you on the grounds that you had stated you were

in love with Derran Tal. I did not understand how you could have declared feelings for her, yet still wish to be a candidate. Your statement was unsettling," she admitted.

"And you lashed out at me," he said softly. With his fingertips under her chin he forced her to look at him. "I opened myself up to that, Seven. I knew I didn't deserve to be considered as a potential date, but I was surprised by how much I wished it were going to be me."

To his surprise she pressed a soft kiss on his mouth and then admitted, "I was surprised by how much I wished it could have been you also."

He held her close, so honored by her statement that he felt as though he were flying. Her temple came to rest against his cheek and he spoke, his voice husky, "Thank you, Seven."

She pulled back slightly to look into his face, and earnestly she began, "You are," then decided that actions spoke louder than words and kissed him, leaning him back against the wall as her arms entwined around his neck to draw him closer. Seven was in control this time, moving to press kisses on his cheeks, throat and jaw line, but always coming back to his mouth tasting and savoring.

A small voice told him that they probably should leave the corridor, but that would have required him to move and he wasn't sure his legs would support him at this time. Meanwhile, his hands were learning the lines of her sleek back and shoulders. He wanted to explore further but knew that this was a new

experience for her, and that she needed time to understand her body's responses. His already tenuous grip on his self-control was stretched almost to the breaking point, as she moved his thighs apart with her leg, pressing herself firmly against his body.

:::Paris to Kim:::

The unexpected noise brought him to his senses. Seven moved back, just enough to allow him access to his combadge, "Kim here," he whispered, his fingers brushing one lovely curve, which didn't help him control his already erratic breathing. Her fingers were doing things to his earlobes that made him want to moan.

:::Hey Buddy. Listen, B'Elanna and I feel kind of bad about what happened at dinner. Why don't you plan on getting together with us tomorrow night? We could eat, watch a holovid or maybe play some cards. If you'd like, we could invite Marla to join us before she goes on shift. What do you say?:::

He'd watched her face as they heard Tom's message, when Marla's name was mentioned, the heated spark of anger in her eyes surprised him. Before he could speak, Seven addressed his combadge, without taking her eyes off his face, "Ensign Kim will not be able to accept your invitation. He will be occupied tomorrow night. We are going on a date. Goodnight." Tapping his combadge off, she raised one brow, as if daring him to disagree with her statement."

He didn't. "You know, Seven," he said, "I would never have taken you for the jealous type."

"I am surprised by this aspect of my personality also," she admitted, drawing him closer for one more kiss, which he willingly returned.

Finally, regretfully, he knew that it was time to stop, pressing his lips into her soft blonde hair, he murmured, "We need to call it a night."

Her eyes fluttered open, he reveled in their soft, sparkling depths. The knowledge that he could now look into them without fear of reprisal or embarrassment was intoxicating. She nodded, turning to tap in the entrance sequence. As the doors swished open she turned to look at him, she swallowed before whispering, "Goodnight Harry."

"Goodnight Seven, see you tomorrow," he replied.

A smile brightened her face, "Yes, you will," she acknowledged with pleasure.

'Leave,' he ordered himself. 'Turn and move towards the turbolift.' And he did, with one last backward glance he walked down the corridor. He was humming to himself, he realized as he entered the turbolift. For the first time that he could remember he felt truly happy.

Life was good.

THE END


End file.
